Something New Learned - Disney World

You should learn something new every day then I guess you can go back to bed.

Percentage of Americans who have visited Disneyland/Disney World: 70%

See Molly we aren't the only ones.

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Sweet Dreams!

When my kids were little they'd play so hard they'd just drop. More times than I can count they'd lay their head down on the playroom rug amidst the blocks and trucks and Barbie dolls and just drift off to sleep.

Is it silly to miss that? Because I do.

I miss seeing my little emerging person fight off the inevitable pull of sleep. Watching the rubbing of eyelids and big yawns mingle in with the defiant "no nap!" calls. Even on the days I couldn't "mom-up" enough to pull them from their play, nature would always win. Heads would drop, eyes would close and sweet dreams would come.

Innocence is defined in a sleeping child's face.

My babies are older now - 9 and 6 3/4 (his count not mine). Naps are rare. Maybe after a sleepover when I pick up a werewolf instead of my child and only a rest can transform her back again.

Last night though I had a brief glimmer of the past as my son played before bed. From the first floor we heard action figure banging and car crashes slow then cease all together. We came upstairs to find this ...

All at once he is my little baby again. Sweet dreams!

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And So Summer Begins

Memorial Day. The official start to summer in my mind. At least back in the day before kids and their school schedules dictating the most beloved of seasons.

Back in the summer of 1993 my roommates and I piled into the car in CT. We drove through holiday traffic to Newport, RI to move into what would be our weekend retreat that summer. A beautiful Victorian right off of Thames Street - right in the mix of things. The house was in serious disrepair but had the bones of a grand home of yesteryear. We were minutes to the beach, downtown and of course the bar scene.

Did I mention there were seventeen of us "young professionals" (read underpaid lackeys) sharing this house for the summer. We'd sleep 5 or 6 to a room because everyone always had friends over. I think the bathrooms were cleaned like twice and the floors were always either sandy or sticky.

Nights were very uncomfortable especially if you got stuck on one of the blow up mattresses on the third floor. Plus no air conditioning meant that you'd lay sweltering in the dark waiting for the oscillating fan to toss a breeze or two your way.

Morning would bring an exodus from the house as we went in search of coffee and breakfast. Then off to the beach to fry in the sun and catch up on our zzz's. Back to the house for a crazed shower schedule. High math was required to follow the thing. Then a BBQ in the backyard and off to dance the night away with friends. Possibly imbibe a little too much.

One or more of the guys would inevitably bring back some clueless girl and beyond all reason sleep with her in a house filled to the brim with bodies. Those poor girls. Talk about a walk of shame. Before they even hit the street full of strangers - in that little black dress that looked so cute last night and so slutty this morning - they'd have to walk through all of us roommates. And we were awful. Superior looks from us girls and knowing smiles from the guys.

On Sunday there'd be brunch at Castle Hill and the dreaded commute back to CT. Only to do it all over again the following weekend. That summer we lived for Fridays like never before.

I can still hear the music and giggles as we four roommates made our way to RI that first Memorial Day weekend. God what a great summer! Fun, laughter, friends, sun, sand, and a feeling of great things to come.

This Memorial Day weekend we will spend two days cheering our brains out for Molly in a soccer tournament. Go to a BBQ with friends and spend some time at my parent's lake.

The packaging may be different from my crazy Memorial Day weekend of 1993 but the ingredients remain the same:

Fun, laughter, friends, sun, sand, and a feeling of great things to come!

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Something New Learned - Snoring Law

You should learn something new every day then I guess you can go back to bed.

In Massachusetts - Snoring is prohibited by law unless all bedroom windows are closed and securely locked.

So if I open a window Hubby has to stop snoring or face jail time.

Hmmmm...... What would you do for a good night's sleep?

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1+1 equals who the hell knows... if Mars is calculating

Yesterday the kids and Steve made me a spectacular breakfast burrito for Mother's Day. My absolute fav for a Sunday breakfast. Then after a lot of whispering in the other room as I read my book, I was whisked off to a hike in the woods and a cozy family picnic. After which I was asked how I'd like to spend the rest of 'My" day.

Not liking to have things hanging over my head I said that I'd like to paint the shutters we had taken down last weekend. Let me be clear. I don't have some love of painting nor do I dream constantly about the lone pursuit of home repair. We just needed to get it done and yesterday was a nice day to paint. So Steve and I started to clean and paint the 20 shutters.

Two and a half hours later we had only 6 remaining. Steve volunteered to take Molly to soccer practice and here is where things went off track. I thought he meant "drop her off" because really what else could he have meant?

We were in the middle of a project together and the 1 1/2 hour practice was 8 minutes away. Plus we were having a really nice time painting the shutters together. Lots of laughs and spilled paint as we whittled away this dreadful task as a team listening to classic rock.

Oh how I was wrong! I assume this must be one of those Mars vs. Venus things because he took Molly to practice (in the car we had been listening to the radio out of I must note) and stayed. To watch it!

According to the defendant it never entered his mind to come back and help finish. He said, and I quote, "We were almost done. Weren't we?" Call me crazy but isn't 6 out of 20 like one third.

Here's an elementary school math word problem for you:

It takes Moira and Steve 2 1/2 hours to wash 20 shutters and paint 14 of them as a team. The washing takes a total of 45 minutes. Six shutters remain to be painted when Steve leaves. Are Moira and Steve "almost done"?

Answer: Hell NO!

Mars has obviously slipped through the No Child Left Behind Law.

Happy Mothers Day Venus you married him!

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The Fruit Salad Personality Test - Who Knew?

M & L were eating breakfast this morning when they started the coolest conversation.

Do you eat the pineapple (most prized fruit in the fruit salad of Gala apple, Bartlett pear and pineapple) first or save it for last?

Liam ate his first which makes sense. He is a live in the moment, good time Charlie kind of kid. He sees the best in things and procrastinates with anything remotely tied to a "must-do" item. It can take a 20 minute conversation to get him up the stairs to brush his teeth for 2 minutes.

Molly saved her pineapple for last. She is the oldest and the most responsible. She is intelligent and observant and wanted to save the best for last. Molly does her chores first then savors the time she has left to play and goof around.

I never really thought about it before but this little stumbled upon test of theirs really does point to their varying approaches to life. Of course this doesn't bode well for Liam's future 401K. But he'll probably have some killer vacations!!

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Happy Mothers Day: to those of us learning on the job

My biggest secret in life is that I feel I have no clue what I am doing almost all the time. From my perspective it appears that all the other mommies in suburbia with the 1.9 kids and mini vans have a key that unlocks this mysterious world of mommyhood that I didn't get. Or more likely did get but lost in my overflowing "to be filed" pile.

Very early on in mommyhood I learned to just go with the flow, learn what you can from observation and punt if you have to.

At 2 1/2 years of age my daughter, M, informed me, while she was playing in the tub, that you can't put money in your 'gina. Immediately the following thoughts raced through my head:

1. Good point.
2. Did someone tell you this rule or was it discovered by trial and error?
3. Is this a rule that every good mommy already knows? And what other rules am I missing?
4. Holy crap. What should I say in response to that!!!

ME: "Well, you really shouldn't put anything in your vagina." Very proudly using the correct vernacular for the female body part. How modern parenting of me?! Keep in mind I was still six months away from M nearly killing an 83 year old lady in the grocery store from a heart attack by screaming in her face "My Vagina is Killing Me!" In M's defense she was wedged up against the safety bar in the front of the grocery cart with a package of diapers shoved in behind her.

Back in the tub my daughter thinks over my advice. I can see the wheels turning as she takes in this new knowledge. After a full minute of processing it she says. "Well you can put these two fingers in if you're cleaning it."

I assume most other mothers would be prepared for this conversation. I wasn't and hence started what would be my back up strategy for all future mind-freak conversations. I punted plus thankfully used a big word for a 2 year old.

ME: "You don't have to be so thorough in cleaning. Just do the outside."

M: "What's thorough?"

Good. A definition question. I can handle that. Whew! Back on solid ground.

Happy Mothers Day! Both to those who know what they are doing and also to those of us still learning on the job.

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Boys!!?

The 6 year old comes down from his 20 minute shower all changed into pj's and ready for his promised 30 minutes of TV. A deal is a deal after all.

ME: "Did you use soap and shampoo?"

You may wonder why I asked such an obviously silly question.

HIM: "Awww! Mom! I'll do it next time I promise. PLEEEEASE!!"

Are you still wondering?

ME: "No. I fell for that last night. Back up you go."

Boys!!?

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Do you remember ankle high white boots and black eyeliner?

So my mom took Molly on her annual birthday shopping trip to the mall the other day. Back they came giddy as school girls about their fab day together with bags of what I am told is the latest in preteen fashion.

Oh, have the tables turned since I was a preteen!

The old lady standing there all smiles as my nine year old prances into the living room to model her new bra strap tank and shorts with some word plastered across the buttocks is not the woman who raised me. "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" springs to mind.

ME: "Do you really think that is appropriate for a nine year old?"

Molly: "Everyone wears this."

(I didn't say, "Would you jump off a bridge if everyone else was doing it?" But heaven help me it did go through my mind. I know that the old lady would have loved to hear her old phrase being bandied about.)

ME: "I think it looks a little ... too ... ummm ... hookerish."

Gram to the rescue: "I think she looks cute. She is right, this is the style."

ME: "Do you remember the ankle high white boots and black eyeliner I wanted to wear to middle school? That was the 'style' in the 1980's."

Gram: "That was just trashy, dear. This is so cute and all the fashion."

She's paying me back. She must be or she has lost her mind. I'm sure I deserve it for countless boundary testing things I did in my teen years. I vaguely recollect Mom saying, "Just you wait. One day you'll have a daughter of your own."

I never imagined that she was planning to team up with her against me in this future world. Yet here we are in a fashion versus good taste stand-off. THEM vs ME. The line has been drawn.

BTW the shorts are going back and the bra strap tank will only be worn as a bottom layer to another top. Take that you alien rendition of my Mom.

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Happy Birthday Morgie - 84 in dog years

Morgie is our adorable yet devilish foxhound. Today she is 84 dog years old or so I am told by my 3rd grade daughter.

We adopted Morgie from the ASPC in Connecticut 11 1/2 years ago when she was 6 months old. It was immediate love. She came with the name Daisy but as she playfully pranced around our house the first day we just started calling her Morgan and it stuck - now shortened to Morgie.

For Steve and I Morgie was our first baby. She was spoiled and pampered and worried over as any first born is. I remember coming home late from a business meeting only to find Morgie and Steve curled up on the couch together watching a football game - he with a pepperoni pizza and she with a few Pupperoni sticks. Later in the night when she made a midnight run outside Steve came clean about letting her have the last piece of pepperoni pizza. Probably not the best thing for her belly.

I'm not sure if the pepperoni pizza started the trend of eating anything not nailed down or if it is just in her nature. But over the years she has consumed just about anything she can get her paws on.

• 15 or so remote controls in Connecticut - For some reason the remote controls in MA haven't held the same appeal.
• 2 lbs container of candy corn
• a fairly good gobble of rat poison followed by an expensive trip to the vet and two weeks of vitamin K
• Countless pacifiers and baby bottle nipples
• Dirty diapers by the dozen. If left unattended with opportunity she'd pull out a string of them from the Diaper Genie and go to town. Just another reason I don't miss the diaper days.
• An economy size jar of peanut butter - impressive when you think she had to maneuver the lid off first - this resulted in a week's stay at the vet for pancreatitis.
• A full bottle of my sister's dog's $600 allergy medicine.
• A kitchen sponge - which impressively came out the other end still intact. No, we didn't keep the sponge.
• A bottle of Pedia-cure.
• A bottle of Motrin.
• Multiple loaves of bread - Each Tuesday when the milk and bread is delivered she tries to get out the door before we remember to bring the milk in and she is batting about a 200 for her efforts.
• A raw 18 lbs turkey one Thanksgiving. We had been brining it overnight in the garage in a cooler. She pulled the whole cooler out and into the front yard then preceded to naw away. Happy Thanksgiving neighbors!
• A tray of cheese and crackers left out from a totally fun BBQ. Followed by another bout of pancreatitis.

And the piece de resistance:

After baby #2 we decided two would be our limit. Having been the responsible party in family planning for the entirety of our relationship I decided I was done and Hubby should get the snip. For whatever reason he didn't agree. I made it clear that I was off FP duties and the rules were that this holster was off-limits to his gun unless there were blanks in the chamber or the safety was on. His decision was to go back to high school for a solution and off he went to the pharmacy for condoms. So it was one afternoon when I was taking the kids to a birthday party - and popped back in the house like 10 seconds after I had left to get the present I had forgotten. Only to find hubby growling, "What the F**k!" as he stared out the window. Always one to follow a rant in progress I looked out the window to find poor Morgie squatting in obvious strain trying to squeeze out a long and getting longer rubber that was hanging from her butt.

"What do you think we should do about that?" says the man afraid of a little out-patient procedure.

Since I was officially off family planning duty and this loosely related, I said, "If I were you I'd wear a glove." To which I then gleefully walked back out the door with the present.

Back 3 hours later I found Hubby and Morgie sitting watching some baseball game. Curious I asked what had happened and he replied, "All you need to know is I took care of it. And Morgie and I decided never to discuss it again."

I always get all teary-eyed walking down Memory Lane on birthdays. Don't you?

Happy 84th Birthday, Morgie!

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